Heartbreak: The Funeral of Buffy Summers
by Dorian Blackthorne theowl
Summary: After Buffy's sacrifice, heroes of all types gather in Sunnydale to say their final farewells. Chapter Two uploaded (and re-uploaded to fix a minor glitch). Enjoy!
1. The Next Morning

DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and all related characters are owned by Mutant Enemy Productions and Fox Television. The X-Men and all related characters are owned by Marvel Comics/Marvel Entertainment and 20th Century Fox Productions. VI and all related characters are owned by Dorian Blackthorne. No profit is being made from this endevor. It is strictly for entertainment purposes.

Authors Note: Takes place immediately after "Preludes to Heartbreak." Probably won't make any sense if you haven't read the preceding works.

Heartbreak: The Funeral of Buffy Summers

Part I: The Next Morning

Of all the stupid ideas…

Nicholas Graydon cut off his line of thought as he approached the locations of last night's activities, currently surrounded by yellow crime scene tape. Giles misguided nobility would have to wait. Nicholas just hoped the Watcher would forgive him. Right now, however, he had other things to take care of. He lifted up a section of the tape and walked under it, preparing himself for the inevitable.

"Hey! You there!" came the shout from his left. "You can't walk in here!"

"Right on time," Nicholas mumbled, reaching into his jacket.

"This is a crime scene, mister," the cop continued. He looked young to Nicholas, too young to be dealing with this. Well, he thought, let's see just how inept the Sunnydale Police really are. 

He flipped the badge he had pulled from his breast pocket open directly in the young officer's face. The cop blanched slightly.

"Oh," he stammered, "Sorry, Sir. No one told us you were coming, and I don't believe we requested help from the Bureau."

"I was in town, thought I'd see if there was anything I could help with," Nicholas muttered, "Who's in charge?"

"That'd be Commissioner McCrate, Sir," the officer replied. "I can take you to him?"

"Please," Nicholas said. He followed the young cop through the scene, noting with interest the other officers on the site. Some were loading up body bags. They seemed completely indifferent to the nature of the corpses, and this led Nicholas to suspect that these officers were picked for just this sort of duty. Dispose of the demon corpses. Never say a word about it. Just another day at work. They were approaching the tower in the center of the taped off area. A large man stood at the base of the structure, looking down on one particular spot, lost in thoughts of his own. 

"Commissioner?" the young cop interrupted his superior's thoughts, causing McCrate to look over at them. "This is Nicholas Graydon, Sir," the officer continued, "He's with…"

"I know," sighed McCrate, "I'll take it from here, Perkins."

"Yessir," the officer said, and turned to go back to his duties.

"I know you're not with the FBI," McCrate said.

"You know?" Nicholas asked.

"An officer caught a picture of you walking with…" he hesitated a moment, "her, on his video camera, a couple of weeks ago," There was no question who the "her" was in that statement. "Looked you up. Had to call in a few favors to do it, but I finally found out who you are."

"Better look into that," Nicholas muttered.

"I served with Fury," McCrate responded. "He found out I was looking into your background and called me. What's his agency doing on this?"

"They're not," Nicholas told him, "This is just for me."

"You knew her, then?"

"Not as well as I'd like," Nicholas looked up the tower. "This is…"

"Where she fell," McCrate confirmed. He pulled a small flask from his hip pocket, saluting the spot in question, then taking a drink. He held the flask out to Nicholas.

"Rest in Peace, Buffy Summers," McCrate said as Nicholas drank from the flask, "You deserve that much."

"How much do you know about her?" Nicholas asked, handing the flask back.

"Enough," McCrate said softly, "She was protecting this town. Hell, this world. We've known about her pretty much since she arrived." He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "We've pointedly ignored lots of…incidents that involved her, and her friends." He turned and looked at Nicholas. "How are they doing?" he asked.

"Shock, mostly," Nicholas said, "It's going to be tough."

McCrate nodded, understanding. He turned and pointed off to the side.

"We found a human body over there," he commented, "Looked like the cause of death was…"

"Accidental." Nicholas said firmly. McCrate turned and looked at him, the question in his eyes clear.

"Had to happen," Nicholas told him, "He was the conduit for…" he gestured around him, "This."

"Accidental it is then," McCrate said, opening the flask once again. 

"Couple other things," Nicholas said flatly.

McCrate simply waited, holding out the flask.

Nicholas took a drink, then sighed.

"I need to know if there was another body, may have looked human, or not, over there." He pointed to an area to the side of the tower. That was about where Doc fell, according to what Xander had said.

"Nope," McCrate said, confirming Nicholas fears, "All we found over there was some sort of ceremonial dagger. Got it bagged in evidence if you need it."

"Shit," Nicholas muttered, "That's not good."

"What else," McCrate asked.

"There can be absolutely no record of Buffy Summers' death," Nicholas told him.

"What?!?" McCrate sputtered. "What are you talking about?"

"She was protecting this town, you're right about that," Nicholas told him. "You obviously are aware of the demons that are here. What do you think will happen if word that the Slayer is dead gets out?"

"Slayer?" McCrate said blankly.

"Slayer," Nicholas confirmed, "As in Vampire Slayer, Demon Slayer, understand?" 

McCrate stood for a moment, thinking back to the death rate of six years earlier.

"This town suddenly becomes and all-you-can-eat buffet again," he muttered.

"Exactly."

"I'll make sure there are no written records," McCrate promised, "But how the hell are we going to make it look…"

"Don't worry about that," Nicholas said, "Just keep your policy active as far as her friends are concerned."

"We can do that," McCrate returned his gaze to the spot where Buffy had fallen. "Will there be a funeral? A lot of us would like to pay our respects."

"I'm sure there will be something, Commissioner," Nicholas told him, "I'll let you know." He held out his right hand, and McCrate took it, shaking it solemnly. Nicholas then turned and started walking away from the tower. After a moment, he stopped and called out: "Commissioner?"

"Yes," McCrate answered without looking up.

"I can imagine how difficult it is to do your job here," Nicholas said, "For what it's worth, I think you're handling it well." He then continued on his way.

McCrate said nothing. He simply looked once more at that dreaded spot, taking one more drink. He then returned the flask to his pocket and looked around.

"Alright people," he called out, "Let's get this wrapped up."

********

_Scott,_

_I don't know exactly how to say this, I know I promised I would call. But there just wasn't time. _

_Besides, I think I know what's going to happen tonight, and I don't want you there._

_Have I mentioned how proud I am of you? Probably not. But I am, so very proud. _

_You stand out there, fighting for a dream, putting your life on the line for others, so that they will never know the fear and hate that's been so much of your life. And that matters more than anything else._

_That's why I couldn't call you to help with Glory. The world needs you, Scotty, and if you're reading this, then Dawn needs you too. See, Dad is really a complete looser, and I don't want her to end up with him. I'm not sure what is going to happen now, but I trust you to take care of her. I trust you completely._

_I love you, Scott Summers, and I want nothing but the best for you. Take good care of our Dawnie, she's going to be something else…._

_Oh, and before I forget, Spike promised to take care of her. Make sure to include him in any decisions about her future. For me._

_Give my love to Jean, and the Professor, and Hank, and Remy, and Logan, and Ororo, and Rogue, and everyone else. And especially to yourself. And listen to the advice you're given. I've made sure you'll get plenty._

_With great fondness, and lots of love,_

_Buffy_

********

Scott Summer finished the letter, and set it down in his lap. Jean Grey, sitting next to him, said nothing. She simply reached out and pulled him into an embrace, holding as tight as she could.

And Scott Summers mourned the life he couldn't save.

********

_Alexis,_

_If you're reading this, then I'm dead. Wow. Great way to start a letter, huh?_

_But, it's true. There is a very real chance that I'm not going to survive this night, and that thought is giving me a major case of the wiggins. _

_I don't have a lot of time, Spike's waiting for me downstairs, and I've got to write to Scott still, so I'll make this quick._

_You once said that this family of mine has some good friends they could call on when they needed. Or something like that. Back when we were planning on how to attack Essex in the caves, remember? You said it to Dawn, but I'm taking you up on it._

_If I'm dead, and you're reading this letter, then my family is going to need you, whether or not they realize it. _

_Please help them. I know that this is going to be hard on them, but it's important to me that they don't give up. They can't give up. Please, please don't let them give up._

_I'm asking you this because the three of you are good people, and because you're not directly part of this group (no offense). I hope you understand what I'm saying. You and Nick and Spencer can say and do things that they will never think of. _

_Give my love to all of them, and I do mean all of them. And make DAMN sure that Spike remembers his promise to take care of Dawn._

_And, strange as it sounds, since I don't know the three of you that well, know that you have my love too. Maybe it's just the thought of what's coming, but I suddenly have a lot of it to go around._

_Thank you, so very much, _

_Buffy_

********

Alexis Vanadis smiled, folding the letter that Dawn gave her back up and placing it carefully in the envelope. 

"No, Buffy," she whispered, "You always had that much love in you." She stood in the hallway, with a gray and white Somali named Tabouli draped around her shoulders. Through Tabouli's eyes she looked around the living room at the Summers' residence. Xander and Anya were still at the hospital, waiting to see how badly the ex-vengeance demon been injured. Once it was determined that there was no life-threatening damage, Xander had sent the other's home.

Dawn had found the three letters on Buffy's bed when they came in. One to Alexis, one to Scott, and one to Dawn herself. The last of the Summers women was currently sitting on the stairs, tears in her eyes but determined to be strong, reading her letter. Tara sat next to her, one arm wrapped protectively around the teen; normally she and her life-mate would both be there, but Willow had gone to L.A. to inform Angel, Cordelia, and the others of Buffy's death.

Scott was on the sofa, crying softly into Jean's shoulder. The letter to him lay in his lap. The other X-Men milled about the house, deep in their own thoughts. Some were contemplative, others angered. 

Spencer was in the kitchen, making sure that there was something available for anyone who wanted it. 

Giles and Nicholas had gone upstairs to Joyce's bedroom to discuss something earlier. Shortly after that, Nicholas had come back downstairs, announcing that he had some business to tend to, and Giles would be down later. It seemed that this was later, as Giles came down the stairs, the pained expression on his face matching the bruise on his chin.

"Giles!" Tara spoke up as she noticed him, "What happened?"

"Nicholas took it upon himself to prevent me from being, and I quote, noble to the point of idiocy," the Englishman said softly. 

"He hit you?" Dawn asked, incredulous.

"Quite well, in fact," Giles confirmed. "I was going to go to the police. To confess about Ben…"

"Confess…?" Dawn asked.

"Yes, well," Giles stammered, "He's dead."

"Ben?" Alexis asked, "Who's Ben?"

"Ben was Glory's human side," Tara explained, "Sort of. They were tied together."

"So if Ben lived…" Alexis started.

"Glory could come back," Dawn finished. She handed her letter to Tara, and stood up to face Giles. "You did something that had to be done," she told him, piecing together what Giles had said. "Even I can see that. And now you're needed here. I need you, the others need you, and you can't help us if you're in jail."

Giles smiled softly at her.

"When did you get so wise?" he asked.

"When my sister made me promise to take care of you," Dawn answered.

"Yes," Giles responded, "But nonetheless Ben is dead…and I…."

"Were witness to a tragic accident," said Nicholas as he entered the house, "I've checked the police report. There's no indication of foul play."

Giles looked at him for a moment, meeting his eyes, and understood what he was saying.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Nicholas walked up the stairs and clasped Giles' arm.

"Anytime," he replied. "We have a lot to talk about later." He turned his attention to Dawn, reaching out and brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

"How are you holding up?" he asked softly. Since their arrival this morning, he hadn't had a chance to talk with the teen.

"I'll live," Dawn told him, "I…don't know about anything else." 

Nicholas looked into her eyes, seeing the tears on the edges. Silently, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Still, she refused to let emotions loose, but she did relax into the hug, returning it with every bit of strength she had. After a few moments, she stepped back, and smiled at Nicholas.

"Thanks," she said softly, "I needed that."

"No problem, Sunrise," he told her. 

The look in her eyes darkened slightly, and she looked towards the doorway to the basement.

"I'd better go check on Spike," she said, walking towards the door.

"I could…" Alexis started.

"No," Dawn said firmly, "He's taking it hard. I'd better go." And she opened the door to the basement.

********

**_"Professor?"_**

Charles Xavier heard Scott's inquiry in his mind. He sat the photo of the Summers women back on the end table where it had rested and wiped the tear from his eye.

**_"Yes, Scott?"_** he thought back, looking over to the sofa where his student sat.

Scott and Jean were both looking at him as the unspoken conversation continued.

**_"I've discussed this with Jean,"_** Scott sent, **_"And I'd like to ask Dawn to come back to the school with us."_**

**_"Are you intending to become her guardian?"_** Xavier asked.

**_"No,"_** came the reply, **_"At least, not yet. But I think, and Jean agrees, that some time away from Sunnydale would be good for her. If she wants to make it permanent later, we can discuss it then."_**

Xavier smiled, he had expected as much.

**_"Certainly,"_** he told them, **_"I think we have plenty of room for Dawn."_**

**_"There is a catch, Professor."_**

********

"Spike?"

"G'way, platelet." His voice was slurred, he'd been drinking.

"No," the teen replied, coming further down the staircase. "I'm not going to let you sit down here and drink yourself into a stupor."

"I failed, Bit. I failed her, I'll fail you…" came the response.

As she found the bottom of the stairs she saw him, sitting in the corner with a bottle of bourbon in his hand. Anger took hold of her as she walked over and slapped him hard across the face.

"Don't…you…ever…say...that…again," she told the vampire. "You did everything you could, and I need you to understand that."

"But…"

"No, Spike," Dawn interrupted, "No 'Buts.' She trusted you, and I trust you. You didn't fail her."

Spike said nothing to this. He simply looked up at her, his eyes red from tears, and Dawn felt her anger fade away to be replaced with…

"…and I need you," she told him, the tears finally starting to flow, "Because I don't have her anymore." Her breath caught, and Spike stood up to face her, dropping the bottle and taking Dawn into a fierce embrace. Then the dam burst, and Dawn sobbed loudly, burying her face into his chest. 

The vampire held on with every bit of strength he could summon, his own eyes beginning to tear again, and silently wondered how much more this girl, his girl now, would have to endure. He would have to be strong. No more of this hiding in the basement trying to drown himself in bourbon. He'd made a promise, and he intended to keep it. 'Till the end of the world.

They stood like that for some time, the tears wetting his jacket. And then the door at the top of the stairs opened and closed, and someone else made their way into the basement.

"Dawn?" Scott called out. "Spike? I need to talk to both of you for a moment."

********

 "Xander?" came the small voice from his side. 

They didn't have a car at the hospital, so Xander and Anya had to walk back to the house on Revello Drive. She had said nothing until now, and Xander wondered what was on her mind.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Isn't that Joyce's shop?" she asked, pointing across the street. 

The storefront in question was dark, far beyond the usual darkness from being closed for the night. Xander looked over and stretched his memory, having never actually been in the establishment in question. It looked right, but he couldn't really remember right now.

"I'm not sure, hon," he said, "Why?"

She didn't answer him. Instead she let loose from his side and ran across the street to the store in question. As he joined her, Xander had no doubt that this was Joyce's shop, no other store in Sunnydale would offer the items in the window.

"What happens to it now?" Anya whispered.

"I dunno, Ahn," he answered. "I guess the government takes it's share, and the rest gets auctioned by the bank…"

"No!" Anya shouted, "This is what she left to her daughters!" 

"Ahn," Xander said, "This isn't the time…."

"Yes it is!" she insisted, "We have to make sure that this is taken care of. Joyce knew she was dying, but she couldn't know that Buffy was going to die too…" She stopped for a second, collecting her thoughts. "We have to make sure that Dawnie's taken care of," she continued, "We have to…."

Alexander Harris realized once again why he had fallen in love with this woman, and why he had asked her to marry him. Pulling her close, he whispered softly to her:

"Okay, hon, we will."


	2. That Evening

Author's Note: Continues from the last chapter (duh!). I want to give credit however. The first ten words of this chapter, as well as the whole speech Anya gives Spencer, are directly from Chelle's wonderful "I Have to Know," which can be found on her web site at http://www.burning-eden.com. One of, if not the best, post Joyce fic I've found. It's all used with her permission, of course.

Part II

That Evening

"Joyce was the only 'mother' **any** of us had really," Anya was saying, mixing the ingredients together in a large bowl. She and Xander had arrived a while ago, and she had begun a mad search to find all of the paperwork involved in Joyce's business. Giles had helped, at first, but then he and Nicholas had to go make arrangements for the funeral. Fortunately, they had found almost everything by then. Anya decided she would go through it that night. 

She had wanted to tell Dawn what she had in mind, but the sole surviving Summers woman was still in the basement with her cousin and Spike. Probably not a good time to interrupt, she thought.

At that point she had walked into the kitchen and found Spencer preparing some sort of pasta and cheese dish.

"What are you doing?" she asked him. 

"Comfort food," he replied. "Everyone's going to have to eat sometime, thought I'd get a jump on it."

"Comfort food?" She'd heard the phrase before, but no one had ever explained it to her.

"Yeah," Spencer said, stirring the mix into a casserole, "Something that somehow brings a sense of peace, or comfort. It varies from person to person, but there are a few standards." He topped off the creation with a layer of breadcrumbs. "Macaroni and cheese, almost always a good bet," he told her with a smile, setting the overflowing dish into the oven.

Anya's mind jumped back to a few months earlier.

_" Aww, honey, don't worry. I'll help you. I'm free until four when I have to pick up Dawn. I'll show you a Summers' family secret passed down from generation to generation."_

_" But I'm not family."_

_" Since when?"_

"Buffy's mom taught me how to make meatloaf," she told Spencer, returning to the moment. "I ran into her at the grocery store and I was panicking because I wanted to make something romantic for Xander's dinner at his new apartment, and she just magically appeared when I was about to dissolve into tears. She told me that Xander loved her meatloaf, showed me which stuff to buy, then followed me to Xander's place, where she mixed it all up, talking me through the motions, and then put it in the oven. She helped me set the table, mix the salad, and then left to pick up Dawn at school. And she hugged me. She gave me a very real, very motherly hug, and told me we'd have to get together soon. She called me family."

She looked up at Spencer, tears just visible in her eyes. 

"Would that be comfort food?"

"C'mon," he said, taking her arm and leading her to the refrigerator, "Let's make sure we have everything."

*******

"Willow and the others should be here soon," Tara said, sprinkling grated cheese over her creation. "She said they'd be leaving almost immediately when she called."

The kitchen had now become relatively packed as more people decided to contribute to the cooking effort. The small table threatened to collapse under the combined weight of Spencer's Macaroni and Cheese, Anya's Meatloaf, some Cajun rice dish that Remy had created, a basic chicken soup courtesy of Jean, and the now finished seven-layer salad of Tara's. 

"Well," commented Hank, setting his recently finished chocolate cake on the last open spot of the table, "At least we won't have to worry about feeding everyone."

Alexis had grabbed Logan a little while earlier, and the two of them had made a run to the store to grab any missing ingredients, as well as stocking up on any imaginable beverage. They had also stopped by the butcher shop downtown and grabbed several pints of blood, since both Spike and Angel would be there.

Giles and Nicholas had returned from making arrangements, and informed the others that the funeral would be held the next afternoon. They had found an isolated spot in the cemetery, near Joyce's grave, but not easily noticed if one didn't know where to look. It also sat in a grove of trees that would provide ample shade, ensuring that Spike and Angel could attend. Once they had made sure everyone knew, they immediately grabbed a couple of beers and moved to the back porch to discuss how best to present the illusion of the Slayer's continued presence in Sunnydale.

The sound of the basement door closing came into the kitchen. Jean looked questioningly at Scott as he, Dawn and Spike came into the room. He simply nodded, a very slight smile on his face. Dawn however, had smelled the food, and suddenly realized she was starving. She looked in awe at the table.

"Guys?" she asked, "How many people are we expecting? And…is that Mom's meatloaf?"

"Yes!" Anya replied, beaming, "Comfort food."

"You…know how to make Mom's meatloaf?" Dawn asked her. 

"She taught me a few months ago," Anya said. She was taken by surprise when Dawn ran over and engulfed her in a hug. 

"Thank you…" the teen whispered.  
  


"We're going to take care of you, Dawnie," Anya told her.

Dawn pulled away from her, and smiled. 

"Actually," she started, "I kind of have an announcement to make." She looked around the kitchen, "Could everyone come into the living room?" she asked.

"Do you want to wait for the others, sweetie?" Tara asked her.

"No," Dawn said. "I need to let you guys know about this." 

The others followed her into the living room, gathering up the last few stragglers as they went. As everyone found a place to stand or sit, Dawn looked around and took a deep breath.

"Okay," she started, "I've been downstairs talking with Scott…and Spike…and, uhm," she paused for a second. Taking another breath she continued. "…I'mgoingtogotoNewYorkforawhileafterthefuneral," she finished quickly.

Everyone in the room looked at her, patiently waiting for her to continue. Finally, Spike broke the silence.

"Doncha mean 'we', nibblet?" he asked.

"Right," Dawn said, "Me and Spike."

"Waitaminute!" Xander shouted out, "You… and SPIKE?"

"Xander…" Giles started.

"You mean you're taking Evil Dead here into an all you can eat…" Xander continued.

"Xander…" Tara spoke softly.

"…Lunch counter, and you expect us to…" Xander plowed on.

"I expect you to accept that," Professor Xavier interjected.

"But…" Xander said.

"No, Alexander," the Professor returned, "Listen for just a moment, and then make any arguments you might have."

Spike, meanwhile, had retreated as far into the shadows as he could.

The front door opened at that point, and Willow walked into the living room, with Angel, Cordelia and Wesley behind her.

"Hey, we're here," she said, walking over to Tara and giving her a hug.

"Great," Xander spoke out, "Maybe you can convince these guys that sending Spike to New York with Dawn is a bad idea."

"Xander…" Alexis growled.

"Spike and Dawn…what?" asked Angel.

"Okay," Dawn said, "One more time. After the funeral, I'm going to spend a while in New York at the Institute. Get away from here for a while. And Spike's going with me." She turned and faced the entire room with her hands on her hips. "Any problems with that?" she challenged.

"Oh, only that, say, Spike is evil!" shouted Xander.

"And how evil was he when he was tortured by Glory, huh?" the teen retorted.

Xander stopped, his hand in the air, the next argument he was getting ready to make dying in his thoughts. His mind took him back to the night he and Giles carried Spike back to his crypt, to the bruised and bloody body they had deposited. And to Buffy's statement the next day that the vampire had endured all that torture because he refused to put Dawn in danger.

"…you're right…" he said. He turned to Spike.

"I don't like you," he told the vampire. "At all. I used to hate you, but I can't anymore. Not after what you took for Dawn." He stared directly into Spike's eyes. "I don't like you, but where Dawn is concerned, I trust you." He held out his hand, never removing his gaze.

Spike looked like he'd been presented with a snake for a moment, then reached out and took Xander's hand, shaking it.

"Don't make me regret that trust," Xander said softly.

"Stake me if I do," Spike replied.

Angel walked over and grabbed Xander roughly.

"Are you out of your mind?" he growled, "How can you possibly trust him? What did he do to you?"

"He was here…when she needed him." Xander said simply, letting his distaste show.

Dawn walked over to the newcomers, reaching out and taking both of Cordelia's hands.

"Thanks for coming," she said softly, trying to break the tension.

"Dawnie," Cordy replied, "I'm sorry…"

"No," Dawn interrupted her, "No sorry's. Buffy was very clear about that." Everyone in the room looked at her at that point, and she realized she had better explain.

"She thought this was going to happen, and she wrote me a letter," she started, "She knew that it was going to be painful, but what she really wanted was for us to live, and not be sorry for me, for her, for any of us. And she said if we all got together like this, she wanted it to be a good thing. Memories of good times. She doesn't want us unhappy."

"Irish wake…" Alexis mumbled. Several nods were made to her statement.

"It does seem like her," Giles said softly.

"She loved life," Spike whispered.

"Bronzing," Willow added.

"Eating," Xander said with a smile.

Dawn's stomach apparently took Xander's comment as a cue, and started grumbling again. She reached out and grabbed Cordy's hand again.

"C'mon," she told the young seer as she dragged her into the kitchen, "You have never seen this much food in one place."

Wesley walked over and shook Giles' hand.

"And how are you holding up?" he asked.

"As well as could be expected," Giles replied. "I noticed Gunn didn't come with you."

"Yes, well we just rescued a young woman from another dimension," Wesley informed him. "Not a very pleasant place for humans, and she had been trapped there for five years. Gunn is staying at the hotel, to keep an eye on her. He does send his regards however."

"Hmm," Giles said thoughtfully. "Another dimension? I'd like to hear about that at some point. However, at the moment…."

Alexis noticed Angel slipping quietly out the front door at that point, a determined look on his face.

"Ah, fuck," she muttered softly. With a glance, she sent Tabouli out to watch after Dawn, and then followed Angel out the front door.

"Angel," she demanded once she reached the porch.

"I don't know what spell Spike has them under, but I'm going to find out," Angel returned, walking toward the street.

"There is no spell," Alexis told him, "And if there was, what would you do?"

"I'll beat every demon in Sunnydale into a pulp until I find the one who helped him in this," He turned back to her, and his eyes glowed gold. "There is no way Spike is doing this without some kind of evil purpose."

Alexis sat on the bottom step of the porch and sighed, why did it always have to be difficult?

"Angel," she said softly, "There is no purpose. No secondary motive. He promised Buffy he'd take care of her…"

"And there's no way he'd have been close enough to do so without…."

"Get over it!" Alexis shouted, "What is the problem here?"

"He doesn't have a soul!" Angel returned, "How can you possibly…"

"A soul?" Alexis shot back, "Are you still buying into that fifteenth century crap about the vampire not having a soul?"

"Of course a vampire doesn't have a soul!" Angel shouted, "And that…"

"Is pure bullshit!" Alexis shouted back, "You can't remove the soul from the body. That's kind of like extracting the cerebellum and expecting the brain to function."

"I don't know what you're up to…" Angel said, "But I'm going to go out there and…" 

"No," Alexis said evenly, "You're not."

"And who's going to stop me?" Angel asked.

Alexis just sat back on the step and waited. 

The hair on the back of Angel's neck suddenly stood on end, and as he turned he saw why.

There, in the middle of Revello Drive, were about eighty cats. Strays, from the look of it. And when he turned back around again, there were another eighty or so standing along the sidewalk to the house. And then he saw the eyes in the bushes. Green and gold, glowing eyes. Watching. 

Okay, he could probably survive the experience. But with over two hundred cats coming at him, it was going to hurt. Bad. Not something to look forward to. 

His eyes reverted back to their normal brown, and he asked "How?"

Alexis looked up at him, her gaze softening for a moment as one of the strays brushed up against her leg.

"Amazing isn't it," she said, "We walk through our lives, and we never see them, never notice their plight." She reached out and stroked the orange tabby behind the ears. "Well, maybe in Morocco, they're almost treated like gods there." She stood and looked the vampire in the eyes. "Sadly, this isn't Morocco." 

"They're everywhere," she continued, and as she spoke, her eyes took on a new color, almost seeming to glow amber. "And they wait. Wanting nothing more than what should be by all rights theirs."

"…you were saying…" Angel stuttered, "About the soul…"

"Young vampire," Alexis said.

"Wait, I'm over two hundred…." Angel started.

The glow from Alexis' eyes shot out and surrounded her entire body.

"What is two hundred years to one who counts time in millennia?" she demanded, "You know nothing of the true nature of this world you would try to save! There are powers at work that you have never dreamed of, young vampire!"

Angel stepped back, burned by the light coming from Alexis. But everywhere he turned, the eyes of the cats were shedding the same light. Reality suddenly faded, and there was nothing but darkness, and her voice.

"The vampire is a mindless symbiotic parasite," it said, "When it takes over a human form, it removes anything from the mind that could interfere in its survival, and it's reproduction. By modern terms, we'd call it the super-ego."

Angel remembered then, the demon, trapped in a boy that it had tried to possess, and wanting to get away from the darkness it found within.

"You wish to be a champion?" the voice asked. "Then you must begin by learning that nothing is as you know it. Have you not already caused great damage by jumping to conclusions?"

And then he was on his knees in front of Alexis on the sidewalk, and she reached out and held his face in her hands.

"Tell me," she said, "What would Liam have done if he had no conscience? Who would he have become?"

And the truth of the question struck him. Liam. Beaten by his father and forced into a mold he never wanted. If he'd had the chance, he would have been…

"Angelus," he answered.

"And if that conscience is returned all at once?" she continued.

"Bad…" he said, tears in his eyes, "Very bad."

"Exactly," she replied, letting go of his face. "It looks like Spike might have a slightly easier time of it."

"…you mean…" Angel started.

"Nothing," Alexis said, her eyes returning to their normal hazel shade. "I mean nothing. It simply could be easier, say, to get your conscience back a little at a time."

"…I…I'm sorry," Angel said.

"Not me you should be telling," Alexis replied. "You ready to go back inside and eat some crow?"

Smiling, in spite of himself, Angel nodded, and stood up.

As they walked back up to the door, he noticed the cats were no longer there, and something struck him. He reached out and touched Alexis' arm.

"I know that you share a bond with you're companion cats," he said. "And the strays? Do you feel them?"

Alexis turned and looked at him.

"All the time," she whispered, "Every one."


	3. The Funeral and After

Part III The Funeral and After

It was cloudy. Oppressive. Any moment, it was going to rain.

Perfect weather for saying goodbye. 

No one was certain if that was intentional or accidental on Ororo's part.

They stood, all of them, in a semi-circle around the foot of the open grave, staring at the casket waiting to be lowered, none of them speaking. 

As soon as someone spoke, there would be no turning back. It would be real.

Buffy Summers would be dead. 

Dawn stood between Scott and Spike, the latter being able to stand in the open due to the overcast sky. Tears had been running down her cheeks all morning, but she had not actually cried since her breakdown in the basement. She had, however, insisted on a closed casket funeral. Vehemently. She wanted to remember a living Buffy, not the leftover shell they were going to lower into the ground. Someone, she couldn't remember who, put a wooden box on the living room table, inviting everyone to put a memento, or a letter, or anything they wanted it. It would be tucked into the casket before the funeral. It was gone when she got ready this morning. 

The funeral director had been fully understanding of the need for privacy in this situation, so he had shown Giles and Nicholas how to run the machinery needed, and then simply set everything up without a fuss. He was now having coffee with the caretaker in the small work shed at the front of the cemetery, waiting for the party to finish.

And still, no one said anything.

Giles was preparing for the inevitable, and had just started getting ready to say **something**, when Xander tugged at his sleeve, and pointed to the east.

"What's going on there?" the younger man asked.

Giles followed Xander's arm and saw a group of eight policemen coming over the hill towards them. Seven of them were carrying rifles on their shoulders. The eighth, leading the group, carried a small box in his hands.

"Some kind of trouble?" Xander asked.

"I don't think so," the Watcher replied, "Those are dress uniforms."

At this point, the others had noticed the procession. They watched as the one in front of the group of officers, who had more stars on his collar than the others, approached Dawn. The remaining seven formed a rough semi-circle at the top of the grave. They stood there at parade rest, one arm behind their backs, the other holding onto the barrel of the rifle they carried, resting the stock of the weapon on the ground.

"Ms. Summers," the ranking officer said, "I'm Police Commissioner John McCrate. On behalf of the Sunnydale Police Department, I wish to present this to you in honor of your sister, Buffy, to acknowledge the work she did." He flipped the top of the box open, and then held it out to her. 

Dawn's hands shook slightly as she took the box and looked into it. Inside, sitting on a velvet cushion, was a medal, hanging from a ribbon of blue. The medallion itself was round, with laurel leaves on the sides, with the words "For Valor" and "Police Department: City of Sunnydale" engraved around the image of the city seal. At the very bottom was "Buffy Summers: 2001"

She looked up at the commissioner with fresh tears in her eyes. 

"You knew?" she asked.

"Some of us," he answered, "Some of us."

"Thank you," she whispered.

McCrate took a step backwards and raised his right hand to the brim of his hat in salute. Dawn stood straight, and returned the gesture. McCrate then spun around and took his place with the remaining officers.

Dawn looked at the medal for a moment longer before closing the box. She then looked over at Giles.

"I'm ready now," she said softly, and walked over to the casket. 

She ran her hand over the polished wood, thinking, not thinking. 

"I'll remember what you told me," she said, "I'll remember what you've done. I'll remember every…" her voice broke, and then she collected herself. "I'll remember everything. I miss you already. I love you." As she walked back to her spot, Xander and Anya came forward.

"Hey, Buff," Xander whispered, "Just wanted you to be the first to know, me and Anya, we're getting married." 

Anya sobbed quietly, then added "I wish you could be here for it." Her contribution to the box had been a hastily scribbled invitation.

"Goodbye," they both said. "We'll keep up the fight," Xander added. Then they turned and walked back to the group.

Willow and Tara came next. Willow was shaking so badly that Tara had to half carry her to the side of the casket. It was too much for the red headed witch, and she broke into hysterical sobs with Tara holding her tightly. 

Tara herself glanced briefly at the casket and mouthed, "Blessed be, travel well, Goddess guide you," before escorting her love back over to the group. 

Giles then walked up. He couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing at all. This isn't the way things were supposed to work. Daughters bury their father, not the other way around. She was supposed to be teasing him about his stuffiness when he was old and gray and sharing tea with him and…and…and…

Steady on, old man, he told himself. The others need you to be strong yet. Once things are going, then you can break down. 

But you really should have told her…

"I love you," he whispered. "And I am so very, very proud of the woman you grew into. Rest in peace, my brave, wonderful girl."

As he left the graveside, Angel took his place, Cordelia and Wesley right behind him. The vampire said nothing, just ran his hand over the top of the casket, before returning to the crowd.

"Goodbye," said Cordelia, "And, thank you." her eyes showing tears, as she walked past. 

"Godspeed, Buffy" whispered Wesley. "Godspeed."

Spike walked up, tears running unashamedly down his face. He kissed his fingertips and placed them once on the top of the casket, gently.

"'Till the end of the world," he whispered.

Scott and Jean came up then.

"I just want to tell you that I love you," Scott said. "I'll take care of Dawn. Always." 

Professor Xavier and the remaining X-Men came up at that point, Henry pushing the Professor's wheelchair.

"We'll all take care of your family, Buffy," he said softly, the others quietly speaking agreement. "All of them." One by one, they returned to the circle, whispering condolences to Scott, or just letting him know they were there. Some paused and whispered a word or two over the coffin. Finally, Scott and Jean themselves returned to the group.

Alexis looked over at Spencer, then at Nicholas, and nodded. Together they walked up to the foot of the grave. Nicholas opened a bottle of wine he'd been carrying. Tabouli walked right next to her mistress, and sat by her feet by the grave.

"Sé nú! Ek sé thar minn fedhr," he said raising the bottle and pouring some onto the ground. 

"What was that, some kind of spell?" Xander started.

"Hush!" Anya whispered, just loud enough for the others to hear, wanting to make sure everyone understood. "It's Old Norse. It's a prayer."

Meanwhile, Nicholas had taken a drink from the bottle and passed it to Alexis.

"Sé nú! Ek sé thar mína módhr, ok minna systr, ok minna broedhr," she said, also pouring some wine onto the ground. She then handed the bottle to Spencer.

"Sé nú! Ek sé thar hringana af mínu kyni frá upphafi," Spencer said, pouring. He then took his own drink, and held the bottle out in front of Alexis. She and Nicholas in turn reached out and placed their hands around the bottle as well.

"Sé nú! Their kalla mik," they chanted. "Their bidjamk koma at theim í Folkvang, hvar ballridhar allan aldr búask um."

"What does it mean?" Dawn asked as they poured the remaining wine.

"Oh," Anya said, "They just asked Freya to take Buffy in, that's all. Made a gift of wine so She'd take notice. Probably a better idea then Valhalla, really. I think Freya would like Buffy."

"Huh?" Xander said.

"Freya," Anya told him, "Goddess of love, wealth, sex and battle. Splits the battle dead with Odin, and she gets first pick."

"So the Norse Gods," Xander said hesitantly, "They're real?"

Anya looked at him as though he had just asked the stupidest question she had ever heard.

"I'll fill you in later," she said, returning her attention to the gravesite. 

Once Alexis, Spencer, and Nicholas had returned to their places, Commissioner McCrate stepped forward again. 

"Ms. Summers," he said, "With your permission?"

Dawn nodded at him. He then turned to the remaining officers.

"Company!" he barked.

Seven officers as one went from parade rest to full attention.

"Stand by Ready!" McCrate commanded.

Seven rifles were pulled up and around into firing position.

"Ready!" 

Seven safety bolts were released.

"Fire!"

Seven shots rang out. Seven spent shells were ejected. Seven fresh shells were loaded. Each step took on a meaning of its own.

"Fire!"

Seven shots rang out again. Seven more empty shells flew out to the right of the riflemen. Seven bolts were once more driven home.

"Fire!"

And the final seven shots echoed into the distance. 

"Stand Down!" 

And seven rifles returned to resting position. 

McCrate turned to Dawn and once again saluted. Once she had returned the salute, the officers fell into formation and returned the same way they came.

Slowly, the remaining group started making their way out of the cemetery. Giles hesitated a moment, and looked over at Nicholas.

"I'll get it," Nicholas said softly, "You go with them, I'll be there shortly."

Giles nodded his appreciation, and walked with Dawn and Spike out of the small grove.

Once he was alone in the grove, Nicholas pulled out his cell phone and called the caretakers shed. 

"We're done," he said, triggering the mechanism that would lower the casket into the grave. "You can come up and finish now." He listed for a moment, then said: "Thanks," before hanging up.

"Damn shame," said a voice from behind him.

Nicholas recognized the voice.

"It always is when you loose the good ones, Fury," he responded. His visitor stepped up beside him.

"I guess we all end up like this in the end, huh?" Fury asked him as he scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it on top of the casket.

"Slayers have an even shorter life expectancy then spies," Nicholas said. "Why are you really here?"

Fury turned and looked at him with his one good eye. 

"I wanted to check up on you," he said, "Could have called, but I wanted to pay my respects." He gestured to the grave, "She was one of a kind."

"That she was," Nicholas agreed. "I'll have some information for you when I get back to Westchester."

"Email it to the Cayman Island server." Fury replied, touching his belt. As he disappeared, he said, "Just in case."

Nicholas looked one more time at the grave. He could see the caretaker and funeral director walking up in the distance. 

"At least you get to rest now," he whispered. Then he turned to follow the others.

********

Alexis turned as Angel called out her name.

"Could we talk for a minute?" he asked, starting to slow down his walking.

She in turn looked over at Spencer, who was escorting her back to the cars.

"Why don't you check with Spike about that project?" she asked. "I'll be along."

Spencer leaned over and kissed her cheek, then started jogging lightly to catch up with Spike, Dawn and Giles.

"So…?" Alexis started, matching Angel's slow walk. 

Seeing that the rest of the group had indeed moved on a bit further, Angel turned and looked at her.

"I've been thinking about what you told me last night," he started, "And I wanted to get some more information from you."

Alexis paled slightly.

"Ooohkay," she started. "Like what?"

"You said that the demon does something with the super-ego, or something like that. I.." he broke for a second, deciding what he was really asking. "What **exactly** did you mean?"

She sighed, and stopped walking.

"About that," she said, "See, the thing is, you weren't talking to me at that point."

Angel turned and looked at her, the question clear in his face.

"I remember saying that you can't separate the soul from the body, and then asking you if you were ready to eat some crow. Everything else," she shrugged her shoulders, "Not me."

"What…?"

"It's probably best if you don't have all the details," Alexis interrupted. "Let's just say that it's not my favorite part of the deal I have with the Lady, but on the other hand, she usually gives pretty good advice."

Angel started walking again, and Alexis kept pace with him.

"Okay," he said, "So then Angelus really is a part of me."

"Something tells me you already knew that."

"Yeah," he sighed. "But I always had that little bit of denial to hide behind. This is going to take some serious thinking."

"Great, just what you need. More brood-fodder," she teased. At his look she added, "Why don't you take a vacation? Sort a few things out before you jump back into the LA nightlife?"

"I can't just take…" he started.

"Sure you can," she said. "Look, your mind is not going to be ready to fight again until you come to terms with a few things. Buffy's death among them. Everybody needs down time every so often. Take a break, go somewhere that you've never been, work some things out, and then you'll be able to get back into it with a clear head."

"What about the agency? Wes, Cordy?" he asked.

"I'll make you a deal," she replied, looping her arm through his, "You take a couple of months off. Go to Tibet or somewhere equally unreachable. I'll stick around in LA and help out your crew."

"Wesley's crew," Angel reminded her.

"Right," she said, "I mean, Nicholas is already working on something else, and I think Spencer is about to find himself a project here. I've already got the experience needed, and I'd love to help out."

"Why?" he asked earnestly.

"I promised I would," she answered. "However I can." She stopped walking and looked up at him. 

"Deal?" she asked.

Angel said nothing for a moment, thinking about it.

"If Wes agrees," he finally answered.

"Let's go find out." 

********

"Okay," Spencer said, looking up briefly from the schematics he was studying. "It can be done, but we're talking about some major modifications here."

"I can handle the reprogramming," Willow stated, looking over his shoulder, "What else do we need."

Spencer looked at the faces around the table. He had called in Giles, Xander, Willow, and Spike to discuss the possibility of using the robot to create the illusion of Buffy still being alive and well. Giles had come up with the idea, and Nicholas had suggested his brother take a look at it. But when Spencer had gotten a good look at the blueprints, he realized that there was a lot of work to be done.

"Well, to start," Spencer said, "We've got to re-enforce the entire skeletal structure." He pointed to the shoulder joints, and then to the hips on the diagrams. "Not to mention needing some micro-motors with a lot more balls than these units. I mean, we're trying to pass this thing off as the Slayer? One vampire, okay. Two, maybe. Three or more, the structure's going to start folding. Without some work, this 'bot'll be in for **major** repairs two, maybe three times a week. And that's if we're lucky!" He returned his gaze to the blueprints. "This thing was **not** built for combat. What the hell was it for?"

Looking around the table, he noticed that none of the Sunnydale crew would meet his eyes, then he noticed that Spike was actually blushing.

"Oh, Loki's left nut…." He whispered. "Okay," he said in a normal volume, "I think we can do this, but I'm going to need at least a week."

"From what we've been able to determine," Giles spoke up, "Most of the more intelligent demons left Sunnydale when Glory started her quest. It seems none of them wanted to chance getting in her way."

"Word that she's gone will get out," stated Xander.

"Yes, but not for a bit," Giles said. "I think we can probably hold down the fort for a week or so."

"Good," said Spencer, "Then I just need to clear staying here for a bit with Alexis…"

"Not a problem," Alexis told him, walking into the kitchen, Tabouli draped once again around her neck. "You can join me in Los Angeles when you've finished here." She came over and stood at the table. "Angel has decided to take a…sabbatical. Get his head wrapped around a few things. I offered to stay in LA and help out the crew."

"What about your own firm?" Giles asked.

"Rose Shepard, our office manager, practically runs the place these days anyway. The three of us are hardly ever really needed." She turned to Spencer, "I'll tell her to have Tricia bring out some clothes and such, for both of us, and Megara I think." Tabouli turned and gave an indignant sniff at that, jumping off of her mistress' shoulder and returning to the living room.

"You're too temperamental for field work!" Alexis shouted after her. "Well, she is!" she added to the others. "The idea of getting a paw dirty has her sulking for a week."

"Okay then," Xander said, "What do we need?"

"I think I can get us some working materials," Spencer said. "I'll need to make a call."

"Stark?" asked Alexis.

"Yup," Spencer confirmed. "We're still talking, and I left on good terms. If he's got some extra stuff laying around, I'm sure he'll let me have it."

"Waitaminute," said Willow, "You mean Tony Stark? As in Stark Industries?"

"One and the same," said Spencer, folding the blueprints back up. "I worked with him in the early days of the Irontech project. I'll give him a call tomorrow."

"Cool," sighed Willow. 

"Yes, ah, well then," Giles picked up, "I'd suggest we end this for now. Spencer, I'd like to invite you to stay at my apartment while you're in town."

"Gracias," Spencer said.

"Maybe we should join the others," Willow said, "I mean, Dawn's leaving tomorrow…" She caught herself, the reality of the situation sinking in once again. Xander reached over and squeezed her arm, brining her attention to him.

"Good idea," he said. Together the two walked into the living room.

Alexis wrapped her arm through Spencer's.

"C'mon, lover," she said. "If we're going to be apart for a while, I want to take a walk."

Spencer grinned and the two walked out towards the front door.

"Spike," Giles called out, "Might I speak with you for a moment?" He gestured to the back porch.

Spike stood and opened the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of beer and looking questioningly at the Watcher, who nodded. Grabbing a second bottle he stood up.

"Yeah," he said, "Could use a smoke anyway."

As they stepped outside, a slight breeze picked up, blowing away the last bit of heat from the day. Spike, true to his word, immediately lit up a cigarette.

"So then," he said, exhaling, "This is the 'Take good care of Dawn or I stake you' speech?"

"No," Giles said, taking a drink of his beer, "I don't need to have that speech with you. Buffy trusted you to take care of Dawn, and I will trust her judgment in the matter." He turned and looked directly at Spike. "Looking back on the last week or so, I would even venture so far as to say I concur."

"However," he continued, "I do want you to keep a very close eye on her." 

"Are you expecting something?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Giles sighed. He sat on the top step, and Spike joined him, offering a smoke more out of habit than anything. He was a bit surprised when Giles took the offered cigarette, and gestured for a light.

"What then?" Spike asked, flicking his Zippo to life. The Watcher leaned over and puffed the cigarette to life.

"I suspect that Dawn's origins may yet have some… impact on her." he said.

"Her bein' the Key, you mean?"

"Exactly." Giles took another drag. "Nicholas informed me that Doc's body wasn't at the tower, he's likely still out there. And there may be others who are aware of the existence of the Key. Be on guard for such things." He turned to look at the vampire again. "I'm also a bit worried that no human body can fully contain the amount of energy that she has."

"Well, that's technically a Slayer body she has, right? Won't that help?" Spike was starting to worry about this.

"I don't think that Dawn's in any immediate danger," Giles said, sensing the rising anxiety. "However, there may be other…side effects."

"Such as…?"

"I have no idea," Giles admitted. "I just want you to be ready for anything. And to feel free to contact me about anything that you think might be wrong, immediately. Day or night."

"I will, I promise," Spike said.

The two men sat in silence, finishing their beer.


End file.
